One year ago today: January 13, 2016, for $1.5 billion, I’ll bite.
Five years ago today: January 13, 2012, sad news.
Nine years ago today: January 13, 2008, whacky tabaccy.
Random years ago today: January 13, 2004, dehydrate the sumbitch,
MORNING
There’s some annual camp-out in the area that’s deserted the streets. Agt. R is a long-term participant; he’s talked about this for months. The call it the “rendezvous” or something, apparently they really put the participants through the ropes, Civil War style. But I’ve got a shed to build and I just got hit with this month’s extraordinary. It’s only $240, which is more of an inconvenience, but it’s a budget item so I’ll just drop off the money. Today I’m attempting to move at least 14 patio blocks in the sidecar. I’ll let you know.
Adultery radio of Bushnell, Florida, formerly called gospel radio, a far more descriptive term, is having a day of protest music. At first, amusing, then you realize these songs are serious. And worded carefully to push a lot of political buttons. Most listeners will know better than to take it seriously, but the message is clear. The Liberals have wrecked our traditions to the point were “the only people doing well are those that don’t belong here”.
There is also a noticeable element of criticism for the single mother thing, an element I attach to Ann Coulter’s surfacing of the problem. And a real problem it is, when I grew up the only single women in town were virgins and widows. Careful, Ann did not say they were bad people, but statistically their kids are a national crime wave, and she says this is because out media “glorifies” the single mother. Like they are heroes. Ha, I liked that show where she asked what the place would be like if they did the same for single fathers.
Humidity 93%, temperature 68°F, wind from the west at 3 mph, time to get to work. I never got a lick done y’day. I did move a few things around and clear some space, but that does not count on the work log. Only progressive construction makes the log book. I made two trips to the lumber yard on the batbike, which performed admirably. Several people stopped to ask questions and the lumberyard staff took pictures when I loaded the wire and studs on top of the bricks. They’ve never seen that before and we believe them, don’t we?
(Apparently illegal) drone photo.
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NOON
A few eagle-eyed readers spotted “that orange thing” in the sidecar, behind the patio blocks. Well, it’s a kid’s water toy called a “noodle”. If you examine the picture nearby, you’ll see along the top rim of the door opening, a new use for the noodle. It is to stop my noodle from banging into the door frame when exiting. The scary part is, whomever used this shed for the previous twenty years was either 4-foot-12, or their head was too soft (from bumping into the jamb) to think of this safety feature.
For amateur workmanship, there may be fancier floors in Florida, but few would be this level. Yes, the dirty or discolored blocks are along the walls, where they are more likely to be covered or hidden by storage shelving or work counters. This shows only the start, by the time I quit the blocks are now mostly placed, I’ll need to make a run for the final 21 pieces tomorrow.
Asking at the lumber yard, the difference between concrete and mortar, according to people who do the work, is that concrete won’t “stick” to this red brick material and form a seal. Mortar is formulated to dry to a waterproof state. Okay, I’ll buy that. The reader should keep in mind I’m doing all this work on my own because I want to learn about how it is done before I get ambitious on the main house. When I stand back, I think this floor looks pretty good so far, for a guy who’s never done anything of the kind. There’s a big thanks to Jenga blocks in this photo.
“I've Got You on My Conscience But At Least You're Off My Back.”
NIGHT
I’ve begun a new mystery called “Londongrad”. Oddly, I’m not aching from moving all those blocks earlier. It was not just placing them that is sweaty work. I had to load them on the sidecar and unload them to the barrow back here. Then drag them to the back yard and stack them ready for use. Here, as if you haven’t seen enough pictures of bricks today. Here’s one stack, in the background you can see the cPod camper. It is fully operational, I just don’t have any opportunities to use it these days. Not enough dollars.
Which I did, and in less that twenty minutes, I wound up drinking the entire quart myself. Now I’m tired, but what I’m not understanding is no sore muscles. Hmmm, I’m not in that great a shape. No way I can haul bricks around for five hours, so let’s see how I fare by the morning. I know how hard I worked and I should have at least a few pains. If not, what’s my excuse that I want to sleep in tomorrow? Hell, I didn’t even stub my toe.
I took it easy, make onion soup from the package, and put the ham bones on to simmer with all the spices I have more than twelve months old. Makes an aromatic base, makes the house smell great, and freeze the broth for gravy. This gives me an opportunity to address a question from last day. If something was a budget item, how could it also be and extraordinary expense? The answer is this is not uncommon and the novelty was my wording. Any budget item can become extraordinary if the amount is abnormally high.
As an example, back in the trailer park days, the rent included items like garbage pickup, water, and sewer. These were never budgeted separately, meaning also there is no conservation or even measuring of usage. Nor is there intended to be. I never naturally waste anything and it will be a dark day in hell before you hear me complain about the price of electricity.
ADDENDUM
I’m too nice of a guy to leave you with nothing but pictures of brick piles all day, even if my established readership know that is a perfectly valid daily topic. For that matter, it’s an unusual topic in perspective, not the actual activity. In most lives, laying bricks is not bloggable, because it is only unusual due to its rarity. See my point? If I only laid bricks once every five years and the rest of the time I was a dud, a couch potato, you know, then you got the “my cat had kittens” type report. I like to think this blog is the opposite extreme—that bricks are exceptional because I barely had the time.
To ignore how rotten the system has become, I studied a bit on this “core memory”. Unlike ROM, this memory can be changed, it is the type of memory on your hard drive. You can re-write it often as you please and it remains when the power is removed. Hence, it is also called magnetic memory. I’ve built ROM and designed RAM, what say I take a closer look at building core memory.
We’ve all seen those diagrams that have a little round magnet circling the intersections on a wire grid. If you don’t know, drop back tomorrow and I will dig up a copy. It is a very common picture. That’s why I’m wondering if it is just a schematic. I know where I can buy little round magnets. I wonder, does the memory involve “spinning” the magnets? That would make sense, but I know my hard disks don’t have moving parts. Stick around, because if, in the macro world, they do move, that could be fascinating to watch.
I’m watching more old John Wayne movies. One thing I wondered about back then. Did people really go into a saloon, drink whiskey by the bottle, and play poker with fully armed strangers?
And the new book, “Londongrad”, starts off a little heavy on the “we’re Russian” angle. Like they are uniquely equipped to deal with these crazy Americans. Can anyone remember a time when the Russians weren’t enemies with somebody? I’m only on page 30, but this book brings into question some of my pre-conceived notions, like for instance, that other nationalities might also have well-meaning grandmothers. That's a joke, Ken.
Last Laugh
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